


A Little Bird Told Me

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a game he and Adam have been playing pretty much since they discovered Twitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bird Told Me

There's a game he and Adam have been playing pretty much since they discovered Twitter. It doesn't have a name, but there's only one rule: craziest fan tweet wins.

It's fun. They send each other direct messages and texts and emails, and they laugh, and argue over who's the winner. Tommy finds himself halfway wishing they'd been keeping score since the beginning. He feels like he has a pretty good shot at winning overall. But then again, that might be depressing, and that would totally defeat the purpose of the game in the first place.

Because as fun as it is to point and laugh, it's also kind of necessary. There's a lot of love that comes from their fans, but there's a lot of hate, too, and mixed in with that is delusion so strong it borders on terrifying. And yeah, it's easy to tell each other not to look. Harder when that button is right there, that innocent-looking little “@” beckoning him, a direct line to the hive mind. So they turn it into a competition, and it works most of the time, keeps the hurt from sinking in.

And then Adam starts dating again, and Tommy learns how much worse things can get.

He'd thought he was immune to it by now, tells himself that it's just stupid, bored people who have nothing better to do with their lives than make up shit about him (apparently he's crying himself to sleep every night since Adam broke his heart). Tells himself to just stop fucking looking at it (he's a horrible person for retweeting Adam and should stop trying to come between Adam and his One True Love). But addiction comes in a lot of forms, and Twitter is the biggest downer he's ever tried (he's an alcoholic too, you know, that's a classic).

He clicks his replies one day and sees an entire wall of the same person, over and over and over, and they're not death threats but they're damn close. He can practically feel the rage radiating off the screen. A deep unease twists its way into his chest, turns everything tight and still. Biting his lip, he types Adam's name into the search box. And it's the same, the same picture copied down the left side of the screen endlessly, the same angry capital letters. Just one more person trying to control their lives, unable to handle it when they can't.

He blocks the account and starts composing a message to Adam in his head, tries to put it in context of the game, make it powerless. But that tightness is still twisting away in his chest, and he swallows hard against a sudden dryness in his throat. This isn't fun anymore.

In the next second, he's got his contacts open, hits the button beside Adam's name and number. He can't remember the last time he actually called Adam instead of texting, but they need to talk. Right now.

Adam's voice is happy and laughing when he answers, and Tommy almost chickens out, hating to ruin that good mood. The words, when they come, spill out in a rush, and he realizes only as he says them just how long they've been festering away inside him.

“Do you ever regret hiring me?”

There's a long moment of silence, and Tommy feels like he can hardly breathe against it.

Adam's voice is serious when he replies, genuine and shocked. “Tommy...no. Of course not! Why would you ever think that? You know I love you.”

Tommy swallows again. “Yeah. But. No one else gets you harassed like I do. They don't bash your boyfriend because of Monte or Isaac or Terrance. Only me.”

Adam pauses another moment. “Fucking Twitter. What is it now?” Tommy starts to reply, but Adam cuts him off before he can say anything, speaking right over him. “No, don't tell me. I don't care. It's all the same.”

“I just...” Tommy hesitates. “I just wonder maybe if we hadn't...y'know, kissed on stage...maybe it would be better.”

“Do you regret it?” Adam's voice is carefully neutral, and Tommys suddenly feels like he's wandered into a conversation about more than crazy fans.

“I...no. I don't.” It's the truth. He likes being subversive. And, if he's honest with himself...he really likes the attention. The _good_ attention.

He can almost hear Adam's smile through the phone. “Good. Neither do I.”

Tommy doesn't answer, but the tightness in his chest loosens a little bit, and he feels like he can breathe again.

Adam continues. “I never realized, before, all the ways people could be closed-minded. I thought it was pretty simple – either you accepted me or you didn't. But...it's more than that, isn't it? A lot more.”

“I guess so.” Tommy can't keep the smile off his face, now. He loves Adam's speeches.

“The only thing you can do is just stay true to yourself, you know? And this is me. Everyone who doesn't like it can just get over it.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I have to run...I have this writing thing. Don't let them get you down, ok? Go tweet something about babies or beer or something. Get'em good and distracted.”

Tommy laughs. “Ok. And...thanks.”

He hangs up feeling about a million times better, like the venom has been sucked out of his blood, and reminds himself just how lucky he is to have a friend like Adam.


End file.
